How Not to Spend Your Senior Year Quotes

“I reached for the doorknob just as the doorbell sounded for the second time that afternoon. “What is this?” I said. “Grand Central Station?”
I pulled the door open. Mark London was standing on the porch. At the sight of Alex, his face shuttered.
“Sorry,” he said. “Bad timing.”
“Nope,” Alex said cheerfully. He stepped around me, then past Mark, and moved to the edge of the porch. “Try not to be stupid, London. If I hear you’ve hurt her, I may feel compelled to do something macho like break both your arms. I’m a jock. We can do things like that, you know.”
Then he sauntered down the porch and out into the rain.
“So,” Mark said after a moment. “You guys kiss and make up or something?”
“You are an idiot,” I said. “You know perfectly well he and Elaine are crazy for each other. He’s probably heading next door right now. If the only reason you’re here is to be a pain, you’d better watch out because I’m planning to slam the door in your face.”
“Don’t,” Mark said suddenly. “Don’t make me go away, Jo.”
I felt the breath back up in my lungs. “Just tell me what you want, London.”
“To see you, for one thing,” Mark said explosively. “You’ve been avoiding me for weeks.”
“I’ve been avoiding you!” I all but shouted. “Who stopped talking to me as soon as his award-winning articles came out? What happened? You got what you wanted so you didn’t need me anymore?”
“I can’t believe you’d think that,” Mark said.
“What am I supposed to think?” I said. “I don’t even know you!”
“Stop,” Mark said suddenly. “Just stop.” With one quick motion he reached out and pulled me onto the porch and into his arms. “I didn’t come to fight. God, you feel good.”
“I am not a pushover,” I mumbled against his chest. I felt, as well as heard, the rumble of his laughter.
“No, I know you’re not.”
He eased back, taking my face between his hands, running one thumb along my right cheekbone. “I know we don’t know each other very well,” he said. “That’s going to change, beginning now. I want to spend as much time with you as possible.”
“What about what I want?”
He kissed me then. Long and deep and slow. I felt my heart roll over inside my chest, then settle down to beat in time to his.
“What do you want?” Mark said when the kiss was over.
“I don’t know,” I confessed. If ever there was a moment for absolute truth, I figured now was the time. “Not altogether. But I’m pretty sure you’re a part of it.”
His lips twitched, with suppressed laughter or irritation, I couldn’t quite tell.
“When do you think you’ll know for sure?”
“Are we going to stand here and play twenty questions all day? How the heck should I know?”
He laughed then, the sound unlike anything I’d ever heard from him before. Open and joyous.
“I think I’m going to enjoy the next few months,” he said.
I smiled. “Just so long as you don’t mind a few surprises.”
― Cameron Dokey, How Not to Spend Your Senior Year

“Before I could take so much as a step back, Mark crossed the distance between us and yanked me into his arms. In the next moment, his mouth crashed down onto mine. Twice before I’d thought he was going to kiss me, but he hadn’t. I guess he must have figured he had nothing to lose now.
The kiss was full of frustration, almost as full of frustration as of desire. It was a kiss that begged for mercy, took no prisoners, searched for answers, and made promises it could never keep, all at the same time.
In other words, it would have knocked my socks off if I’d been wearing any at the time. It certainly made my knees weak, a thing that probably would have annoyed the hell out of me if it hadn’t been quite so exhilarating.
“That’s the last thing I’m ever going to say to you,” Mark said when the kiss was over.”
― Cameron Dokey, How Not to Spend Your Senior Year

“How do you think people are going to feel when they find out you’ve deceived them?” he asked. “When they find out you’ve been playing them all for fools for weeks on end?”
I didn’t answer until we were safely out in the parking lot. Then I turned to face him.
“Gee, I don’t know, Mark. I imagine they’ll be furious and hate me for it. Is that the point you’re trying to make? I get it. Though, for the record, I never wanted to deceive anyone.”
“Then why pretend to be dead in the first place?”
“I already told you I can’t tell you.”
“Then let me tell you something, Calloway--O’Connor--whatever your name is,” Mark said in a furious voice. “I am going to write the tell-all article of your nightmares.”
“Gee,” I said. “Now there’s a surprise.”
I began to walk quickly through the parking lot in the direction of the street. If I didn’t get away from him soon, I was going to do something completely disgusting, like disgrace myself and cry.
“Don’t walk away from me. Where are you going?” Mark said.
“To the bus stop.”
“What do you mean to the bus stop? Nobody leaves the prom on the bus.”
“Now the heck do you think I got here?” I all but shouted, rounding on him as a flood of frustration overcame my desire to cry. “In a carriage that will turn into a pumpkin at midnight?”
“Why didn’t Crawford pick you up?”
“Because I wasn’t his date,” I said succinctly. “Elaine was. Is.”
Mark dragged a hand through his hair. “My car’s right over there,” he said. “I’ll drive you home.”
“No way,” I said. “And listen to you tell me what a lying jerk I am all the way across town? I think I’d rather walk.”
Before I could take so much as a step back, Mark crossed the distance between us and yanked me into his arms. In the next moment, his mouth crashed down onto mine. Twice before I’d thought he was going to kiss me, but he hadn’t. I guess he must have figured he had nothing to lose now.
The kiss was full of frustration, almost as full of frustration as of desire. It was a kiss that begged for mercy, took no prisoners, searched for answers, and made promises it could never keep, all at the same time.
In other words, it would have knocked my socks off if I’d been wearing any at the time. It certainly made my knees weak, a thing that probably would have annoyed the hell out of me if it hadn’t been quite so exhilarating.
“That’s the last thing I’m ever going to say to you,” Mark said when the kiss was over.
In a silence that felt like a blackout at the end of the world, I let him drive me home.”
― Cameron Dokey, How Not to Spend Your Senior Year

“So whaddaya think, Calloway? Do I get that dance?”
“Let’s see the cummerbund.”
His expression blandly agreeable, Mark stood up. I laughed before I could help myself.
Mark’s cummerbund was black with hot pink polka dots.
“I believe I specified plaid,” I said.
“Give me a break here, will you Calloway? I got the ugliest one I could find.”
“You definitely did do that,” I said. I looked up, meeting his eyes. “One dance,” I said. “We’re supposed to be working, you know.”
“One dance,” he agreed as the first dance ended and the crowd applauded.
He held out a hand. I took it and let him ease me out onto the dance floor. The band settled into its first slow number and Mark London pulled me slowly but surely into his arms.”
― Cameron Dokey, How Not to Spend Your Senior Year

“You’re awfully quiet,” Mark observed.
“I was just wondering,” I said. “Wondering if he’ll ever tell her.”
Mark cocked his head to one side, his eyes on Elaine and Alex. “I doubt it,” he said after a moment. “Crawford strikes me as the true-blue type. Now that Jo O’Connor’s dead…” He let his voice trail off.
“Pretty much what I was thinking,” I said.
“Of course,” Mark said promptly, “if he knew that Jo was still alive…”
“You never give up, do you?” I asked.
He gave me his devil’s grin. “Nope. So whaddaya think, Calloway? Do I get that dance?”
“Let’s see the cummerbund.”
His expression blandly agreeable, Mark stood up. I laughed before I could help myself.
Mark’s cummerbund was black with hot pink polka dots.
“I believe I specified plaid,” I said.
“Give me a break here, will you Calloway? I got the ugliest one I could find.”
“You definitely did do that,” I said. I looked up, meeting his eyes. “One dance,” I said. “We’re supposed to be working, you know.”
“One dance,” he agreed as the first dance ended and the crowd applauded.
He held out a hand. I took it and let him ease me out onto the dance floor. The band settled into its first slow number and Mark London pulled me slowly but surely into his arms.”
― Cameron Dokey, How Not to Spend Your Senior Year

“By the time the Saturday of prom actually rolled around, I told myself I was resigned to my only course of action. Claire Calloway would attend the prom. The ghost of Jo O’Connor would not. Not even if she was elected prom queen. It wouldn’t allay Mark’s suspicions, but I told myself I could live with that.
Live with that. Ha ha. Very funny.”
― Cameron Dokey, How Not to Spend Your Senior Year

“Hey, Calloway.”
Reluctantly I turned back. “What?”
“Save me a dance, will you?”
I smiled sweetly. “Only if you wear one of those cute little plaid cummerbunds.”
― Cameron Dokey, How Not to Spend Your Senior Year

“You want me to back off, fine. Prove to me you’re not Jo O’Connor and I’ll do whatever you say. I’ll flap my arms and fly to the moon.”
“That won’t be necessary,” I said. “The other side of the room will be just fine.”
He gave a breathy laugh, the air of it moving across my face, and eased back.”
― Cameron Dokey, How Not to Spend Your Senior Year

“Without warning, he leaned down until our faces were close. Omigod, he’s going to kiss me, I thought.
“Make me,” he said. “You want me to back off, fine. Prove to me you’re not Jo O’Connor and I’ll do whatever you say. I’ll flap my arms and fly to the moon.”
“That won’t be necessary,” I said. “The other side of the room will be just fine.”
He gave a breathy laugh, the air of it moving across my face, and eased back.
“So, do we have a deal or not?”
“What’s so important about the prom?” I asked.
“Don’t be stupid, Calloway,” Mark said. “The ghost is practically expected. If she doesn’t show, I’ll know it’s because you’re not who you say you are. That Claire Calloway and the ghost of Jo O’Connor are one and the same. They can’t be in the same place at the same time.”
“That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” I said, though my heart was beating so hard I thought for sure it was going to burst right through my clothes.
“Then you shouldn’t have anything to worry about, should you?”
“I don’t have anything to worry about,” I said.
“Fine.”
“Fine. I’ll clear things with Rob. In the meantime, stay away from me, London. Or I might develop a sudden illness which will prevent me from attending the prom at all.”
“Chicken,” he said.
“You’d so like to think so.”
This time when I attempted to move past him, he let me go. I’d only gone a few steps before he called after me.
“Hey, Calloway.”
Reluctantly I turned back. “What?”
“Save me a dance, will you?”
I smiled sweetly. “Only if you wear one of those cute little plaid cummerbunds.”
― Cameron Dokey, How Not to Spend Your Senior Year

“There are just too many coincidences for me. Combined with too many things that don’t add up.”
“Maybe I’m just a woman of mystery,” I said.
He gave a sudden bark of laughter. “Maybe, but I doubt it. I’ll say this, though. You’re full of surprises.”
I took a step, closing the distance between us, and saw emotion flare back into his eyes. This time, surprise.
“Leave me alone, Mark,” I said, using his first name for the very first time. “Stop following me. I don’t have anything to hide.”
“Prove it,” he said.
“How?”
“Take me to the prom.”
“You have it backward,” I said, my tone condescending and patient. “You’re supposed to say, Claire, may I please take you to the prom.”
“Not the Royer prom,” Mark said impatiently. “The Beacon prom.”
“I can’t do that,” I said, giving my head a toss to cover the fact that he’d totally caught me off guard. I really liked the way Claire’s hair moved when I did that.
“I’m already going with Alex Crawford.”
For just an instant, Mark’s face became absolutely unreadable.
“I don’t mean as a date,” he said, his tone ever so slightly snide. “You’ll need a staff photographer.”
“Forget it,” I said.
Without warning, he leaned down until our faces were close. Omigod, he’s going to kiss me, I thought.
“Make me,” he said. “You want me to back off, fine. Prove to me you’re not Jo O’Connor and I’ll do whatever you say. I’ll flap my arms and fly to the moon.”
“That won’t be necessary,” I said. “The other side of the room will be just fine.”
He gave a breathy laugh, the air of it moving across my face, and eased back.”
― Cameron Dokey, How Not to Spend Your Senior Year

“You certainly are getting chummy with Elaine Golden.”
Though my heart was racing, I turned around slowly. I didn’t need to face him to know who it was.
“I might consider backing off if I were you,” I said. “Otherwise I’ll have to report you to Mr. Hanlon for stalking.”
He snorted. “I’m a reporter,” he said. “It’s my job.”
“What about the part where you’re incredibly obnoxious? Is that in the job description too, or just a personality disorder?”
“You always come out swinging, don’t you, Calloway?” Mark London said. “It kind of makes a guy wonder what you’ve got to hide.”
“I think they call that blaming the victim,” I came right back. “And for your information, it went out about twenty years ago.”
I grabbed my bag and attempted to brush by him. He caught me by the arm. I stopped. We were shoulder to shoulder now. Eye to eye.
“You really want to let go of me,” I said.
Just for a second, I was sure I saw the last thing I expected flare in his dark eyes.
“No, I don’t,” he said.
But he did it anyhow, stepping back, his expression shuttered now.
Run! my brain screamed. The rest of me stayed right where I was.
“You really think I’m her, don’t you?” I heard myself say. “That’s what this is really all about. You’re not attracted to me, London. You just want to solve a puzzle. Prove you’re the smartest.”
“Yes. No. I don’t know,” Mark said. He made a disgusted sound and dragged a hand through his hair. “There are just too many coincidences for me. Combined with too many things that don’t add up.”
“Maybe I’m just a woman of mystery,” I said.
He gave a sudden bark of laughter. “Maybe, but I doubt it. I’ll say this, though. You’re full of surprises.”
― Cameron Dokey, How Not to Spend Your Senior Year

“I never really felt Jo was right for Alex. She only wanted to go out with him because he was student body president.”
You are so full of it, I thought. Images of red and white Christmas candy canes danced through my brain. I seized them and snapped their little striped necks. I flipped through my notebook, pretending to look for previously recorded information.
“I understand he asked her to the prom.”
“I wouldn’t know anything about that,” Khandi said with a sniff. “But I’ll tell you this.” She leaned forward as if about to impart a great secret.
“If Alex did ask her, it was because he felt sorry for her. But it totally backfired on him. I think that’s why Jo’s ghost is still here. She just can’t bear to let Alex go. Even she knows she’s a nobody without him.”
Nobly, I resisted the impulse to stuff my notebook down her throat.
“That’s an…interesting insight,” I said.
“Oh, well,” Khandi said, sitting back and preening ever so slightly. “All the women in my family are like that.”
“They know things and they have insights. Fascinating combination.”
― Cameron Dokey, How Not to Spend Your Senior Year

“Personally I wasn’t one but surprised to walk into that theater and see Jo O’Connor’s ghost. I knew as soon as I put my hand on the door handle that something funny was going on. I got all sort of lightheaded.”
Probably the blood trying to find its way through the labyrinth of your brain.”
― Cameron Dokey, How Not to Spend Your Senior Year

“I could have done without Khandi Kayne.
“We know things,” Khandi said now, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “The women in my family, I mean. We can just sense them.”
I drew a little witch’s hat with an arrow poking through the crown.
“You mean supernatural things?”
She nodded. “Personally I wasn’t one but surprised to walk into that theater and see Jo O’Connor’s ghost. I knew as soon as I put my hand on the door handle that something funny was going on. I got all sort of lightheaded.”
Probably the blood trying to find its way through the labyrinth of your brain.”
― Cameron Dokey, How Not to Spend Your Senior Year

“This obsession with Jo’s ghost has got to stop. She’s the only one who can make that happen, but she can’t do it on her own. She needs your help. I need your help. Please don’t let me--us--down.”
“That was an extremely low blow,” Elaine said. “And stop talking about yourself as if you’re more than one person. You’re creeping me out.”
“I am more than one person,” I said. “And they both have the same question: Was that a yes or a no?”
― Cameron Dokey, How Not to Spend Your Senior Year

“Do you know why they’re putting a bench in the herb garden? So Jo’s ghost will have a congenial place to sit when she visits the campus. Suzy Neptune actually said that, right out loud.”
“I admit that is a little weird,” Elaine said.”
― Cameron Dokey, How Not to Spend Your Senior Year

“So maybe I wasn’t that high profile when I was a student here,” I said. “But am I really more interesting dead than alive?”
“You don’t seriously expect me to answer that, do you?” Elaine said.”
― Cameron Dokey, How Not to Spend Your Senior Year

“So maybe I wasn’t that high profile when I was a student here,” I said. “But am I really more interesting dead than alive?”
“You don’t seriously expect me to answer that, do you?” Elaine said.
“Yes. No. I don’t know. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I’m really touched that people want to remember me. It just all feels so unreal, somehow.”
“Well, there is that part about Jo not really being dead.”
“Elaine,” I hissed. “Not so loud!”
― Cameron Dokey, How Not to Spend Your Senior Year

“How Not to Spend Your Senior Year,
Rule #3:
No matter how dire things get,
do not panic.

It will only make a bad situation even worse. Besides, by the time you’ve reached the hit-the-panic-button stage, it’s way too late. Nothing you do will make a difference anyhow.
This is a phenomenon known to the ancients as irony. You may be more familiar with the contemporary expression of this concept: Life sucks.
Particularly weekends.”
― Cameron Dokey, How Not to Spend Your Senior Year

“The big boss wants to take us both out for dinner tonight. Apparently he’s into getting to know the families of key employees or something.”
“Well, that sounds potentially boring,” Elaine remarked. “Do you know where you’re going?”
Completely off the top of my head, I named the swankiest restaurant that I could think of.
“You’d better dress up,” Elaine warned. “I think that’s one of those places where, if you show up not wearing pantyhose, they give you some.”
“That is so gross,” I said.”
― Cameron Dokey, How Not to Spend Your Senior Year

“Jo!” I heard a voice call.
I straightened just in time to see Alex dash up the front walk.
“I thought you had practice,” I said.
“Cancelled,” Alex said shortly. He made the front porch and pushed back the hood of the sweatshirt he had on beneath his letterman’s jacket. His breathing was quick, as if he’d run all the way from school. “I tried to catch you guys but you’d already gone.”
“Elaine’s at her house,” I said.
Alex gave an exasperated laugh and moved to put his hands on my shoulders, a thing that pretty much made me forget all about my dad’s car in the drive. Apparently Alex had decided that the waiting period was over.
“I didn’t sprint ten blocks to see Elaine,” he said. “I came to see you. There’s something I want to ask you, Jo.”
“No, you can’t borrow my math homework,” I said.
“Shut up, you idiot,” Alex said, giving me a shake. “I want you to go with me to the prom.”
I opened my mouth, then closed it again. An action which no doubt made me look exactly like a fish out of water.
“That wasn’t a question,” I finally said.
Alex rolled his eyes. “Do you want to know why I like you?” he asked. “It took me a while, but I figured it out. It’s because you’re so impossible.”
A laugh bubbled up and out before I could stop it.
“Impossible,” I repeated. “What about annoying?”
“That too,” Alex nodded. “You’re impossible and annoying and unpredictable. Will you please go with me to the prom?”
“Aren’t you worried about what will happen if I say yes?” I asked.
“Uh-uh,” Alex shook his head. “I’m only worried that you’ll say no.”
“I’m not going to do that,” I answered steadily. “Thank you, Alex. I’d love to go with you to the prom.”
For a moment, he simply stood, his hands on my shoulders. “You’d better hold still,” he warned.
“Why’s that?”
“Because I’m going to kiss you now.”
Words failed me. Which turned out to be a very good thing as, for the next few minutes, I needed my lips for something else anyhow.
The kiss ended and Alex eased back. There was an expression on his face I’d never seen before. Sort of startled and blank all at once, as if he’d just discovered something he hadn’t expected but couldn’t quite put a name to.
“Well,” he said.
“Bet you say that to all the girls,” I replied.
“I’m that obvious, huh?”
“Actually, no.”
“Now who’s being nice?” Alex said. He stuck his hands in his pockets. “So, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Okay,” I said. He turned, and I watched him sprint off down the walk. It was only then that I realized I was still clutching my sopping wet shoes.
Very smooth, Jo. No wonder the guy can’t resist you, I thought.”
― Cameron Dokey, How Not to Spend Your Senior Year

“You’ll like Drama,” Alex promised a couple of hours later. We were walking across a wide swath of green lawn that separated the school’s Little Theater from the main classroom building. “Mr. Barnes, the teacher, is great. He makes the whole thing really interesting and fun. Even the performing part isn’t too humiliating.”
“Gee, that’s a relief.”
― Cameron Dokey, How Not to Spend Your Senior Year

“Not to be rude or anything,” I said as I took a step back. This forced Alex to let go of my arms. Unfortunately it also resulted in me stomping on the feet of whoever was trying to get out behind me.
“Hey, watch it,” I heard him say.
“But I believe it’s traditional to let the first-period students exit the classroom before the second-period ones go in,” I went on.
“I’m not going in,” Alex said simply. “I’m walking you to your next class. History, right?”
Right, I thought. Right before I thought, This has absolutely got to stop. If I couldn’t nip whatever was happening with Alex Crawford in the bud, there was no telling where I’d end up, though it seemed a pretty safe bet that making a fool of myself would somehow be involved.
“How do you even know where it is?” I asked, my tone aggressive. “What if it’s nowhere near where you have to be?”
At this, the student behind me decided he’d waited long enough. He gave a quick shove. An action that sent me right back into Alex Crawford’s arms.
“It doesn’t make a difference,” Alex said.
My brain struggled for most of the rest of the day, but even then, I think it knew that my heart had won.”
― Cameron Dokey, How Not to Spend Your Senior Year

“By the time first period was over, my head felt back to normal, and I was well on my way to congratulating myself on my quick recovery from my encounter with Alex Crawford.
Right up until the moment I walked out of the classroom and straight into his arms.
It was hard not to. He was standing right outside the door.
His hands came up to grasp and steady me at the same time as he flashed me that mind-numbing smile. How on earth did he get here so fast? I wondered.
“Hey, Jo O’Connor,” he said.
“Hey, yourself,” I mumbled.
At that moment, I made a snap decision, a thing I usually avoid. My usual new school adjustment techniques just didn’t seem to be getting me anywhere, at least not with Alex Crawford. If at first you don’t succeed, try try again. Only a fool tries the same thing twice, though. If fading into the background wasn’t going to work, maybe standing out by being obnoxious would.
“What did you say your name was, again?” I asked.
Alex laughed. Oh, nice move, O’Connor; I thought. It was the same kind of laugh he’d given before. Open, easy, unselfconscious. A laugh that softened all my defenses and pretty much made my heart want to melt like one of those little pats of butter you get at Denny’s, left out in the sun.”
― Cameron Dokey, How Not to Spend Your Senior Year

“An old Chevy, I think,” he was going on now. “It’s supposed to be back soon, though. Not really the same without it, is it?”
He actually sounded genuinely mournful. I was surprised to find myself battling back a quick, involuntary smile. He did seem to be more interesting than your average, run-of-the-mill BMOC. I had to give him that.
Get a grip, O’Connor, I chastised myself. “Absolutely not,” I said, giving my head a semi-vigorous nod. That ought to move him along, I thought.
You may not be aware of this fact, but agreeing with people is often an excellent way of getting them to forget all about you. After basking in the glow of agreement, most people are then perfectly content to go about their business, remembering only the fact that someone agreed and allowing the identity of the person who did the actual agreeing to fade into the background.
This technique almost always works. In fact, I’d never known it not to.
There was a moment of silence. A silence in which I could feel the BMOC’s eyes upon me. I kept my own eyes fixed on the top of the carless column. But the longer the silence went on, the more strained it became. At least it did on my side. This guy was simply not abiding by the rules. He was supposed to have basked and moved on by now.
“You don’t have the faintest idea what I’m talking about, do you?” he said at last.
I laughed before I quite realized what I’d done.
“Not a clue,” I said, turning to give him my full attention for the very first time, an action I could tell right away spelled trouble. You just had to do it, didn’t you? I thought. He was even better looking when I took a better look.
He flashed me a smile, and I felt my pulse kick up several notches. My brain knew perfectly well that that smile had not been invented just for me. My suddenly-beating-way-too-fast heart wasn’t paying all that much attention to my brain, though.
“You must be new, then,” he commented. “I’d remember you if we’d met before.”
All of a sudden, his face went totally blank.
“I cannot believe I just said that,” he said. “That is easily the world’s oldest line.”
“If it isn’t, it’s the cheesiest,” I said.
He winced. “I’d ask you to let me make it up to you, but I’m thinking that would make things even worse.”
“You’d be thinking right.”
This time he was the one who laughed, the sound open and easy, as if he was genuinely enjoying the joke on himself. In retrospect I think it was that laugh that did it. That finished the job his smile had started. You just didn’t find all that many guys, all that many people, who were truly willing to laugh at themselves.
“I’m Alex Crawford,” he said.
“Jo,” I said. “Jo O’Connor.”
At this Alex actually stuck out his hand. His eyes, which I probably don’t need to tell you were this pretty much impossible shade of blue, focused directly on my face.
“Pleased to meet you, Jo O’Connor.”
I watched my hand move forward to meet his, as if it belonged to a stranger and was moving in slow motion. At that exact moment, an image of the robot from the movie Lost in Space flashed through my mind. Arms waving frantically in the air, screaming, “Danger! Danger!” at the top of its inhuman lungs.
My hand kept moving anyhow.
Our fingers connected. I felt the way Alex’s wrapped around mine, then tightened. Felt the way that simple action caused a flush to spread across my cheeks and a tingle to start in the palm of my hand and slowly begin to work its way up my arm. To this day, I’d swear I heard him suck in a breath, saw his impossibly blue eyes widen. As if, at the exact same moment I looked up at him, he’d discovered something as completely unexpected as I had, gazing down.
He released me. I stuck my hand behind my back.
“Pleased to meet you, Jo O’Connor,” he said again. Not quite the way he had the first time.”
― Cameron Dokey, How Not to Spend Your Senior Year

“Instead, the thing that had captured my attention was this big metal column topped by…absolutely nothing. It was doing this in the parking lot of what I had to figure was the main supplier of off-campus food: a retro-fifties fast-food joint.
Maybe it’s supposed to be some kind of art, I thought as I stared at the column. I was living in the big city now, after all. Public art happened. Not only that, it didn’t have to make sense. In fact, having it not make sense was probably a requirement.
“They took it down for repairs,” a voice beside my suddenly said.
I’m kind of embarrassed to admit this, but the truth is, I jumped about a mile. I’d been so mesmerized by the sight of that column extending upward into space, supporting empty air, that I’d totally lost track of all my soon-to-be-fellow students rushing by me. To this day, I can’t quite explain the fascination. But I’ve promised to tell you the 100 percent truth, which means I’ve got to include even the parts which make me appear less than impressive.
“Huh?”
Yes, all right, I know. Nowhere even near the list of incredibly clever replies.
“They took it down for repairs,” the voice said again.
“Took it down,” I echoed. By this time, I knew I was well on my way to breaking my own blending-in rule, big time. Sounding like a total idiot can generally be considered a foolproof method of getting yourself noticed.
“The car that’s usually up there.” The guy--it was a guy; I’d calmed down enough to realize that--said. I snuck a quick glance at him out of the corner of my eye. First fleeting impression: tall and blond. The kind of muscular-yet-lanky build I’ve always been a sucker for. Faded jeans. Letterman jacket with just about every sport there was represented on it.
Gotcha! I thought. BMOC. Big Man on Campus.
This made me feel a little better for a couple of reasons. The first was that it showed my skills hadn’t abandoned me completely after all. I could still identify the players pretty much on sight.
The second was that in my vast, though admittedly from-a-distance, experience of them, BMOCs have short attention spans for anyone less BOC than they are. Disconcerting and intense as it was at the moment, I could nevertheless take comfort in the fact that this guy’s unexpected and unnatural interest in me was also unlikely to last very long.
“An old Chevy, I think,” he was going on now. “It’s supposed to be back soon, though. Not really the same without it, is it?”
He actually sounded genuinely mournful. I was surprised to find myself battling back a quick, involuntary smile. He did seem to be more interesting than your average, run-of-the-mill BMOC. I had to give him that.
Get a grip, O’Connor, I chastised myself. “Absolutely not,” I said, giving my head a semi-vigorous nod. That ought to move him along, I thought.
You may not be aware of this fact, but agreeing with people is often an excellent way of getting them to forget all about you. After basking in the glow of agreement, most people are then perfectly content to go about their business, remembering only the fact that someone agreed and allowing the identity of the person who did the actual agreeing to fade into the background.
This technique almost always works. In fact, I’d never known it not to.
There was a moment of silence. A silence in which I could feel the BMOC’s eyes upon me. I kept my own eyes fixed on the top of the carless column. But the longer the silence went on, the more strained it became. At least it did on my side. This guy was simply not abiding by the rules. He was supposed to have basked and moved on by now.”
― Cameron Dokey, How Not to Spend Your Senior Year